Sunday Occupations.

41

road in the village, at high springs, during the rainy season. Here, on Sundays, the men and

women dress themselves and visit, and certain of the shops are crowded with card-players. There is nothing to remind one of Sundays, except the extra neatness of the people; no church bells; not even a little hut where prayers are heard. The manner of keeping the Sunday here is altogether too partial, sensual, animal. It seeks to benefit the body only. One needs the worship of the God of the Sabbath to make the day complete. But this is a digression.

Well, we bought our bread, and, at the suggestion of Christobal, I got two arrobas of tasajo, of 25 lbs. each, and a little demijean of white rum (ron blanco). We slept two nights in the village, and, starting early on the following morning, dropped down to La Ceiba, as being convenient for the tide, and returned to Caruto in the after

noon.

Gerilleau returned to his place to find that his partner, not tasting any himself, had wilfully destroyed three favourite white ducks, and given

them to the Indians to eat, although there was an abundance of meat and other poultry at hand.

The two Indians and I planted corn and pumpkins, and plantain suckers in the area around the house. Their term of service then expiring, they desired to return to their homes, promising to come back whenever I desired to have the field cut and planted. So, taking their advances to bind them to the future work, with many hearty a Dios, we parted.

CHAPTER V.

BUEN PASTOR.

The

THE French company, formed for the exportation from Venezuela of salted meat, failed. mode of salting was not found sufficiently complete to preserve the meat for any lengthened period, and the company had not capital enough to stem the losses sustained. One of the party, M. Edmond, determined to make this the country of his adoption, and took readily to the habits of the people. When I got to know him, he was already in possession of a plantation in Buen Pastor, the fertility of which he declared to be almost beyond belief. M. Edmond had inured himself to hunt without any clothing whatever, excepting the slip of loin-cloth worn by the Indians. He was a man of about forty years of age, tall and erect. feet seemed so delicate, and were so well formed, that one could hardly reconcile their appearance

His

with the known habits of the man, whose ambition seemed to have been to emulate the Indians.

M. Edmond was going to visit his place, and proposed that I should accompany him. We procured two Indians, and started early, so as to get before night-fall to a hunting rancheria (hut) raised by some Guaraoune Indians.

On our way we met with nothing except some chattering monkeys, one of which an Indian of our party needlessly shot, for we did not use the meat, although it is good, and said to be very sweet. The man skinned it, and pegged the skin on to a tree to dry, but, after all, forgot to take it away at our departure. We passed some powes on the way, birds as large as turkeys, with beautiful black-green glossy plumage, with bright yellowand-black-crest. But it appears that hunters here are not willing to throw away a load of powder and shot on such game.

Arrived at the rancheria, we slung our hammocks, cooked our tasajo, and, with dry cassavae bread and hunger, made a comfortable meal.

A French Traveller.

45

Some good logs of firewood were brought in, and we had a cheerful fire for the night. M. Edmond, as most Frenchmen are, was a good talker, and, in company, always in good humour: but on several occasions I had surprised him in deep and apparently sad thought; and I had, somehow, got to believe that his good humour and hearty laugh often masked a heart ill at ease.

"You must have often passed this way with more or less companions, M. Edmond," I said, addressing him in French as usual when alone with him. For the Indians, although talking Spanish together, were conversing in so low a tone, with interspersed laughter, that I got to look upon them as not present.

Often," he replied, and then continued to say, "Sometimes with more than the present company, oftener with less; mostly alone."

Your experience must be worth the hearing." "Not at all; only the common one of travellers, exposure, privation, fatigue."

"You must have seen no end of snakes and tigers."